Tonight I took the midnight bus home from the library and a familiar homeless woman asked me for money. I was holding my clutch and it was obvious that I had some cash on me but I lied and told her it was filled with receipts because I know she is a drug addict. Then she started to cry and I almost teared up because I felt so horrible about it; she was so desperate.
If you don’t think I’m cute that’s your problem not mine
I think you’re stunning
I have a 1.5 spaced 20-ish page midterm due in a week and I’m just sitting here pretending it doesn’t exist.